SWEAT
DRIPPED INTO MY EYES as I bounced on the balls of my feet. Someone had to be
calling out how much time was left in this round soon. My pride was on the
line, and there was no way I would hand it over to Con Leahy. He’d already
gotten the girl, and I wasn’t about to let him humiliate me in the ring in this
piece-of-shit New Orleans gym too.

My
muscles burned, but that was nothing compared to the heat of victory—or the
sting of defeat. What had started out as a boxing lesson had quickly
transformed into an all-out brawl for dominance and respect.

Only
you would pay a million dollars to get your ass kicked, Titan. The voice in my
head mocked me as I bobbed and weaved. But I hadn’t paid a million to get my
ass kicked. I’d done it because that night at the charity auction I’d been
drunk, pissed off, and determined to prove a point—he might’ve gotten the girl,
but I was still the one with the power. I got a sick sense of satisfaction that
every time Con bought something for his gym and these kids, he had to think of
me.

I
swung with another right hook. The blow connected with Con’s jaw and snapped
his head to the side.

Yeah.
That’s right. But my mental cheer came a moment too soon, and pain exploded in
my left side.

Shit,
that’s going to hurt tomorrow.

I
stumbled back but threw myself forward again, shooting out my fist with an
uppercut that knocked Con back a step. This was how it had gone for the last
several minutes—trading punches and circling each other.

There
was no love lost in this ring, that was for damn sure, and I was ready for this
to be over. I would walk out of here with every bit of the respect I was owed.
Fuck anyone who thought otherwise.

Con
moved toward me and the circling started again. The cheers and chants from the
crowd surrounding the ring in the old warehouse gym seemed to grow every time I
glanced beyond the ropes. A flash of blond hair caught my eye as I stepped left
and Con shifted to the right.

Vanessa.

She
threw her head back and laughed at something said by her redheaded friend, Elle.
I turned my attention back to the man in front of me, but my focus wandered
again when a huskier, sexier laugh echoed through the room.

My
eyes strayed from Con for a second too long as I tried to track down the source
of the laughter. Pain burst through my jaw, catching me by surprise, and I
stumbled back into the ropes. Using their momentum, I shoved off to the side,
my pride stinging from my momentary lapse in concentration. Embarrassed and now
thoroughly pissed off, I surged forward and attacked.

One
punch. That was all I landed before the bell rang, signaling the end of the
round and my very expensive “lesson.”

I
pushed off Con, and my knee might have slipped as I stepped back . . . and
caught him directly in the balls. It was probably an accident. I huffed out a
chuckle, but Con didn’t share my humor.

“Goddamn
it!” he roared. “Are you fucking serious?”

It
was like stabbing a bull with a matador’s sword, but I was ready for him. I
jumped out of the way as Con charged, and shifted into a defensive stance when
he swung.

“Should’ve
expected a cheap shot from you, motherfucker.” Unrestrained anger flashed over
his face as every shred of coaching mentality fled, along with that smug
superiority he’d been giving me.

Good.
You aren’t better than me, Leahy. I could buy and sell you a hundred times
over.

He
might’ve gotten the girl, but I wasn’t going to let him get away with her
clean. I wanted blood.

“Should’ve
expected you to strut around this ring like a fucking cock of the walk,” I shot
back.

Con
feinted and swung again, but I’d been studying his movements. I bobbed and
weaved, and got the hell out of the way.

I
threw my own punch as soon as I had a clean shot. It landed just below Con’s
left eye, splitting the skin over his cheekbone and sending blood spattering
everywhere.

The
taste of victory was sweet. “First blood,” I said under my breath.

Apparently
my words weren’t quiet enough because Con’s head snapped up and he glared at me
with disgust, as if I needed to be put down like a rabid animal. “This ain’t a
fuckin’ duel, you piece of shit.”

“It
sure isn’t a friendly competition either.”

“Paid
a million to get that cheap shot in, didn’t you?”

My
lips twisted into a mocking smile. “I sure didn’t pay a million to have you
show me up.”

Con
dropped his hands and shook his head. “Just when I thought you weren’t a
complete fucking asshole.”

“You
were wrong,” I replied, turning for the ropes.

Con’s
fists lifted and before I could react, one connected with my cheekbone. The
instantaneous gush of blood told me I’d have a scar to match his, but it didn’t
matter. One more scar wouldn’t hurt my banged-up face.

I
roared as I charged, but I didn’t get the chance to retaliate. Shouts filled
the room, and beefy arms wrapped around my body, holding me back.

“You’re
not half bad when you’re not being a shady rich prick,” Lord’s voice said in my
ear.

I
lunged toward Con, but Lord’s grip only tightened. “Get your goddamn hands off
me,” I growled at him.

Leaning
closer to my ear, he lowered his voice. “When you calm the hell down and
realize you’re making an ass of yourself in front of a bunch of kids and
women.”

I
glanced out to the crowd and read disgust on so many faces, including
Vanessa’s. Like it mattered what a single goddamn person in this gym thought of
me. I could buy and sell them all.

Lord
was still holding me back when Con came toward us. He yanked his gloves off and
wiped at the blood still dripping from the gash on his face.

“You’re
also not half bad when you’re paying attention—and when you’re not throwing a
knee into my nuts. But I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

I
jerked at the arms trapping me. “Call off your dog, and I’m gone.”

“You
ever want another round, it’s gonna cost you two million next time,” Con said.

“For
another chance to make you bleed? I’d pay even more.”

Con
nodded to his brother, and Lord let me go. The crowd had already started to
disperse. The only person in the building who probably didn’t want to run me
down in the parking lot was my COO, and arguably my friend, Ryder Colson. And
he was nowhere to be seen.

Instead
of Colson, I saw a group of women moving toward the door—Vanessa Frost in her
white cotton dress, Elle Snyder in her yellow retro number, and two others I
didn’t know. One looked familiar with tanned skin the color of honey, her hair
in dark waves, and a curvy body displayed by a funky teal dress with hot-pink
polka dots. She hooked her hands on her hips, and that husky laugh echoed
through the room again. Apparently she was the one who had distracted me in the
ring. My eyes didn’t move from her to take in the fourth woman.

Colson
came up beside me. “Who knew there’d be so many hot pieces of ass in this shit
warehouse?”

I
turned toward him. “Give any of them a shot, and you’ll probably find yourself
bleeding on the floor.”

Ryder
shrugged off my comment. “Go get your shit. I’ll wait.”

He
was gone before I could tell him he didn’t need to wait around for me. But then
again, he was my only ally in a building full of people who undoubtedly would
have preferred to see me KO’d on the floor of the ring. Just one more place I’d
never be welcome.

Good
thing I didn’t give a fuck.

I’d
showed up, gone toe-to-toe with Con, and had taken back a piece of my pride.
That was enough.

For
today.

I
was already thinking of hiring a trainer as I went for my bag.

I have been sitting on this review for days. There are many things that I want to say
about this book, and in particular its author, Meghan March. You see, I really believe that one of the
best things I think I have done as a book blogger was sign up for Beneath This
Mask way back almost a year ago. Now I
know this review is for Lucas and Yve, in Beneath These Scars, but really and
more importantly, something that I want you to take from this review is how
amazing Meghan March’s writing really is.
I am always instantly drawn into the story from the very first page and
she always blows me away with her skill.

Meghan has a knack for writing extremely strong female
Heroines, they have depth, and a back story to rival their male counterparts,
which by the way, are nothing short of stunning. They are strong as well. They love their girls fiercely, and there is
always a healthy dose of conflict to keep you guessing what might be ahead.

Beneath These Scars is no different.

Lucas Titan is not
a good guy, and really that is the truth.
He is my favorite type of male in a story, the anti-hero. The guy that you don’t know if he will change
his stripes, but pull for him the whole way.
The bad boy that might have good intentions hidden beneath the surface.
The one that would fight to protect everything he has. He is intense, to say the least. He is
successful. He’s cocky because in Lucas Titan’s world, it revolves around
him. He gets what he wants, and he is
used to it. He is not used to having to
chase after something, but has a fun time doing it.

Yve Santos is the snarky woman that runs the vintage store Dirty Dog. She is highly successful as well. She doesn’t own the store but she might as
well. She has been doing everything
involved with it by herself for a long time.
She has a past as well. In fact,
it’s a little traumatic and she tends to keep people at arm’s length. She has this abrasiveness to her, but she’s
loyal. Yve is friends with Charlie, Elle, and
Vanessa, so when Mr. Titan comes to blows with someone close to them, she
doesn’t want anything to do with him. And
that is putting it lightly. She hates
Lucas.

These two are both fighting past insecurities that always
seem to bubble up, and the both of them have to realize that neither one
contributed to past transgressions. Set
in New Orleans, as with the rest of the Beneath Series; Meghan always gives
vivid detail of the city, and I feel like I can see it. Even though I have never been.

Beneath These
Scars sends us down a path of suspense, love, and maybe a little redemption for
the anti-hero? These two will have a
fight on their hands and I want you to read, no I urge you to read this book to
find out what happens, when you look Beneath These Scars.

So really, in closing, which sounds so formal. Ha! What I really need for you to understand, is
that Meghan March is a gem. I can only
name a handful of authors that make me feel the way she does, when I have one
of her books in my hand or on my kindle.
She’s one of those authors that you don’t need a blurb to know if you
are going to read the next book or not.
An instant one click. A, she could rewrite the phonebook and I would
read it, author.

Pick up Beneath These Scars. Even though I am very, very partial to
Beneath This Mask, Lucas’s book is the best of the series. Everything flows
together beautifully, and before you know it you’re at the end wanting more. They just keep getting better.

5++ Stars. A must
read now, recommendation.

Catch
Up on the Beneath Series:

Beneath This Mask (Beneath #1)

He loves me, and he doesn’t even know my real name. The limelight
that follows him could expose everything I’m hiding. But even knowing the
risks, I can’t force myself to stay away. I’m going to break his heart, but
mine will shatter right along with it. Will we lose it all when I reveal what’s
beneath this mask?

Meghan March has been known to wear camo face paint and tromp around in woods wearing mud-covered boots, all while sporting a perfect manicure. She’s also impulsive, easily entertained, and absolutely unapologetic about the fact that she loves to read and write smut. Her past lives include slinging auto parts, selling lingerie, making custom jewelry, and practicing corporate law. Writing books about dirty talking alpha males and the strong, sassy women who bring them to their knees is by far the most fabulous job she’s ever had. She loves hearing from her readers at meghanmarchbooks@gmail.com. Website: http://www.meghanmarch.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MeghanMarchAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Meghan_March
Goodreads:https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8184875.Meghan_March